Moving towards Easter...

One of my old friends back in Ohio recently wrote that many - if not most - of our children do not know what makes this week "holy" because Western Christianity has become so culturally conditioned by convenience. Drawing upon the wisdom of the Jewish Seder that asks, "what makes this night (Passover) different from all the rest?" he goes on to say that without entering the liturgical expressions found in both Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, contemporary Christians - children and adults alike - remain clueless. While this is probably equally true within contemporary Jewish homes, too, I have a few reactions to his insight.

+ First, participation in Protestant or Roman Catholic liturgy does not a disciple make, yes? And while I would never assume to understand the mysterious working of grace in the heart of a person in worship, I also trust that the fruit of the Holy Spirit in our lives will be visible. The word will become flesh: the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. (Galatians 5:22)

+ Second, I know that my experience in Reformed liturgy left my understanding of Holy Week malnourished for years. Growing up, Maundy Thursday was a time for table communion - sometimes Tenebrae - but never foot washing. Why? Because that was what Roman Catholics did - so I was trained in a somber Eucharist without any understanding that God's gift of grace was to be shared in radical servant hood. Also, many Reformed believers only celebrated Eucharist in an "upper room" mode - fearful, quiet and obsessed with Christ's death - and then only four times per year. Where do we learn about the Emmaus Road Eucharist - that opens our eyes to the Resurrection and God's joyful presence? Or our encounter with Christ in community Eucharist?

(This Tenebrae setting is, obviously, a monastic one - which is where the liturgy began; too often the Reformed appropriation is a pale and limp approximation of this rich and nuanced worship experience.)

What's more, my early encounter with both Palm Sunday and Good Friday were equally truncated by the anti-Catholic fears of my Reformed history. Palm Sunday, as a child, was often more jubilant than Easter - or else Easter felt redundant. And Good Friday was mostly ignored altogether so where was I to learn about the Paschal Mystery? Or the healthy - and unhealthy - aspects of venerating the Cross? Or, as Harvey Cox notes in his excellent Common Prayers (a look at both Christian and Jewish liturgical celebrations through the eyes of a Christian who has married a Jew) what about the horribly anti-Semitic liturgies that are still sung and celebrated in our more liturgical Reformed churches?

+ And third, while I have found great solace and succor in the ecumenical liturgical renewal movement that has enriched my tradition since the 1980s, I still believe with Frederick Buechner that God's presence comes to us most often in our ordinary lives: in the midst of us. He writes:

Jesus is apt to come into the very midst of life at its most real and inescapable. Not in a blaze of unearthly light, not in the midst of a sermon, not in the throes of some kind of religious daydream, but... at supper time, or walking along the road. This is the element that all the stories about Christ's return to life have in common: Mary waiting at the empty tomb and suddenly turning around to see somebody standing there - someone she thought at first was the gardener; all the disciples except Thomas hiding out in a locked house, and then his coming and standing in the midst; and later, when Thomas was there, his coming again and standing in the midst; Peter taking his boat back after a night at sea, and there on the shore, near a little fire of coals, a familiar figure asking, "Children, have you any fish?"; the two men at Emmaus who knew him in the breaking of bread. He never approached from on high, but always in the midst, in the midst of people, in the midst of real life and all the questions that real life asks.

I know we need training to have eyes to see Jesus in the midst - and the liturgy can help and shape - but in this age we can't be cranky and demanding. My old friend and liturgical scholar, Tom Dipko, used to say something like: no excuses - every age has its own challenges - ours is to discern what they are and live into the resurrection fully. The rest is up to God and we must trust that.

I am looking forward to Maundy Thursday worship this year. We are doing foot washing in this old New England town that has avoided it - for a host of good and poor reasons - for 246 years. Three people actually volunteers including one little 9 year old girl who left a note on her momma's bed saying, "I will have my feet washed this year in church... it is right." And we will celebrate Eucharist and then have the service of shadows - Tenebrae - too.

And we'll do Good Friday at 7 pm with our experiment with art and spirituality: "Sounds of Solace." More than many gatherings, this liturgy always opens my heart to the way Christ is in our midst -often within culture - and often beyond my understanding. We'll have a few guest musicians joining the band this year, too: a piano rendition of both Vince Guaraldi and Chopin and a jazz guitarist and vocalist bringing something new into the mix.

But only if we are ready - and that is totally up to God's grace - will anything of the Lord be discerned in these liturgies - as holy as they might try to be.